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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29272023">Only for you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwastemytimereading/pseuds/Iwastemytimereading'>Iwastemytimereading</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The dreams that become a reality [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Formula 1 RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blink and you'll miss it, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, also, bit of angst but smol, charles lecelerc playing the piano, i take no arguments on that matter, no covid in this fic cause it sucks, that's his birthday gift to pierre, the song that charles played today and posted?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:29:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29272023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwastemytimereading/pseuds/Iwastemytimereading</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuck. He was in love with Charles.</p><p>It's Pierre's birthday and as he founds himself alone in his apartment, his dream and an instagram story force him to realize a few things.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The dreams that become a reality [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162955</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Only for you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Not at all written cause Charles didn't wish Pierre happy birthday on instagram, why would you think that? I know they probably texted or smth, just let me have this ok? i'm joking, please don't @me for this. and, cause it's Pierre's birthday, happy birthday Pierre.</p><p>Big big thank you to Laeana and emotionalsupportfastcars for helping me with this fic and listening to me ramble about it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His day had been going well so far. It was nothing worth mentioning, but nothing worth getting upset over either. It was his birthday, yes, but it felt bleak. No excitement, nothing special. Then again, he was 25, it couldn’t always stay the way it used to be when he was a little kid. Full of excitement and child-like wonder. So he spent his day the way he always did. Or at least, he planned to. His morning was normal, as was his night and the day before. Nothing exceptional, nothing unusual, the same old routine. His morning filed with exercises, mixed with small breaks. He knew he should focus, keep his mind trained as well, but his thoughts kept on swimming elsewhere. Back to the race track, back to his friends, and eventually back to Charles.</p><p>He hadn’t seen the Monegasque ever since the 2020 season has ended, their goodbye brief, and filled with promises to see each other soon. But it has been almost two months and there were only the short phone calls, sometimes facetiming, but that was about it really. He missed him, he missed him so much and he told himself that it was normal, because it was, because they’ve been friends for as long as he could remember, spent hours and days by each other’s sides. During karting, during games of soccer and everything in between. And they still were close. During f1, trying to find ways to  spend those few little stolen moments with each other, talking and reminiscing and just being together. Their friendship was strong he knew that, Charles knew that, the whole paddock knew it. But they somehow found themselves drifting apart. Their traditions started changing. No more breakfasts together as often as possible, no more Saturdays spent in the green parks.</p><p>And no more birthday texts apparently. He wasn’t necessarily expecting anything from his friend, but it would’ve been nice, it was their tradition. A birthday text and a slice of cake eaten side by side. But as it seemed, this year would be the year when traditions would be broken, Pierre thought as he looked out of the window during one of his breaks, the view of Milano breath-taking and always one he loved. His oven beeped in the background, alerting him of his ready meal and he sat down at the table, slowly digging into the heated food, his thoughts far away from exercise, winter testing or Milano. They were again swimming with the dark-haired Monegasque, but he refused to acknowledge that, only stabbing his food harsher, trying to force the thoughts out of his mind.</p><p>It was an hour later, he was lying on his couch, deciding to take a nap after lunch and maybe play some games later. He was scrolling through Instagram, the clock showing 2pm. He smiled at all the birthday wishes that he got, posting them on his story, like he always did. But then he came upon Charles’ Instagram story. He knew he was expecting too much when he thought he’d see a birthday wish or something along those lines, but it still hurt. He never thought that it could hurt, seeing Charles play the piano, but somehow, it did. When he saw Charles’ fingers dancing across the keys, playing the melody that sounded so familiar, but he just couldn’t place it. He let the familiar tunes play out, bouncing off his apartment walls. He replayed the story and listened to the song again and again and again. His eyes on the way that Charles’ fingers moved, on the Ferrari red watch, on his tanned skin, he was taking in every portion of the video that was playing on a loop. The soft notes were the last thing he heard before his had drifted shut, the last thought ‘I wish he were playing for me’ and then dreams took over his mind.</p>
<hr/><p>He was walking down a hallway, doors on either side, with candles next to each of them. He kept walking until he came upon a door, different than the rest. A door with a red number 16 on it. Before he could even open it, he heard music. Music that he was sure he’d heard before, the notes intertwining with each other, creating a melody that sounded like heaven to Pierre. 

He closed the door behind him and walked into the room, the first thing he could see a white piano and a pair of hands charming the music out of it. He walked further in, gasping as he saw Charles sitting on the piano bench, dressed in his usual clothes, just a pair of jeans and a sweater, but looking so beautiful that Pierre almost stopped where he was standing when the thought of it crossed his mind. Beautiful. Hadn’t he always known, deep inside, that Charles was beautiful? The way he smiled and the way he laughed. The way his eyes would only be opened halfway on rainy Sunday mornings when Pierre would have to drag him out of his bed. Beautiful, the way he would look at Pierre and take him in his arms after a long day, and somehow make it all seem alright. And lastly, beautiful. The way he played the piano, swaying with the melody, his fingers dancing, his eyes half closed and Pierre… Pierre could only watch, transfixed with the image, almost the mirage that was Charles playing the piano.</p><p>He felt his breath catch in his throat as Charles’ fingers suddenly stilled on the piano, the notes hanging as if unfinished in the air when Charles raised his head to look at him. His eyes, Pierre felt himself drowning in them, the mix of the colours that he loved so much. He saw his friend get up, walking closer to him with an ever-present smile on his face. Pierre could feel a smile taking over his face as well, getting bigger with every step that Charles took towards him. When they were finally there, face to face, Pierre just felt… happy. And then Charles raised his palm, cupping Pierre’s cheek and Pierre couldn’t help but lean into the touch, the warmth calming him down and making his heart beat speed up at the same time. Charles smiled at him again, and somewhere in the background music began playing again. It was soft and quiet at first, but then the beat became faster and the music became louder and louder.</p><p>And then Pierre was lying on the floor, his phone alarm ringing next to his head. He sat there for a minute, not even fully recognizing where he was. But then he got up, and looked down at his phone, unlocking it and he was faced with Charles’ Instagram profile. And it all came back to him in that moment. The dream, Charles playing piano, his eyes, his smile, his warm palm on Pierre’s face. And it hit him so suddenly, the realization almost knocking him back down on the floor again. The feeling that he felt when Charles’ palm had been resting on Pierre’s cheek, and then he realized it when he looked back down at his phone, Charles’ face smiling up at him.</p><p><em>Fuck</em>. He was in love with Charles.</p>
<hr/><p>He was driving, he didn’t know for how long, his eyes skipping over to the clock displayed on the car radio, 5pm flashing in orange. He had been driving for an hour, but it had felt like so much longer. He still had more than two hours and a half to go and then what was he supposed to do? Park at Charles’ apartment, run up to him and tell him he’s been in love with him since… forever? Since they were kids, since the day that they met? He had no idea how long he had been in love with Charles for, he only knew that he was, and he knew that he had to tell him, otherwise he could lose him, and he couldn’t let that happen.</p><p>His radio was muting out the silence that was taking over his car, but Pierre found himself unable to listen to the music. It was some modern pop, it wasn’t piano, it wasn’t Charles. What he would give to have Charles next to him in the car in that very moment. For no reason, just to talk and to laugh and to smile. To maybe hold his hand and tell him that he loved him and to hear him say it back. He knew he was getting lost in his mind, again and again and again. He knew that it was dangerous, he drove for a living, he knew that getting caught inside his own mind while driving was one of the most dangerous things, but he just couldn’t help it. Not when the sound of Charles’ piano was still playing in his ears and the feel of Charles’ palm on his cheek still felt so real, so alive. He gripped the steering wheel tighter in his hands, forcing himself to come back to reality.</p><p>The street lights were already coming to life outside the windows of his car, he was speeding down the road, he knew he was breaking the limit, but he couldn’t help it. Not when there were only a few minutes separating him and Charles. He finally came to a stop in front of the building, the light in Charles’s apartment still on, it was only 8pm, but nevertheless. Pierre was fumbling with his car keys, but he knew that he couldn’t turn back. He just drove for almost four hours, there was no going back, not now. He took a deep breath and pulled open the door, walking up the flights of stairs that were leading to Charles’ apartment. He stopped in front of his door, hesitating slightly before knocking, still not knowing what to say once Charles is going to be standing in front of him. He heard a ‘come in’ and turned the door knob, stepping into the apartment and then feeling frozen on the spot.</p><p>Because there was Charles, sitting at his piano, his fingers dancing across the black and white keys, playing the same melody that Pierre had heard a thousand times by then. There he was, dressed in jeans and a jumper, a Ferrari red watch on his wrist and looking… beautiful. So beautiful in his simplicity, sitting at that piano, looking like he was in his element, looking at home, with his eyes half closed and creating magic by playing melodies. And Pierre loved him, he loved him so much and then Charles stood up, walking over to him, the smile on his face as big as the one Pierre had dreamed. And then they were there, face to face, once again. After so long, it may have been only two months, but to Pierre it felt like an eternity.</p><p>His eyes flickered over to the piano again, the melody still on his mind. He turned towards Charles again, the colors and feelings mixing in his eyes. He couldn’t look away, Charles’ eyes captivating him and freeing him all at once. Charles’ forehead was leaned against his and Pierre could already feel his breath on his lips. ‘Pierre’ ‘Mhm?’ ‘Happy birthday.’</p><p>And with that Charles’ lips were on his, Pierre’s hands in his hair and his mind a mess. He couldn’t pull away, only returning the kiss, biting Charles’ lip and tugging slightly on it, dragging a soft moan out of the other. He felt his tongue in his mouth and he couldn’t help but push back harder, fighting for dominance, but only for a moment. He wanted to keep it soft and sweet and innocent. He wanted to savor the love that he felt, the love that was there since the very beginning but needed a nudge to become uncovered and realized. And for Pierre, that nudge was the piano, the instrument that Charles could make magic with. Express the sadness and the happiness and all the love that he felt. And to Pierre, that was one of the most beautiful things about Charles, besides his eyes and his smile and his laugh and the way he looked at Pierre like he was the world and the sun in the sky.</p><p>When the need to breathe finally became too sparse, they broke apart, their eyes still locked together, and their lips swollen with kisses. And Pierre couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss Charles again, softly, shortly, and just because he could. A thought crossed his mind then, the piano still in the corner of his eyes. ‘You play beautifully.’ And Charles smiled even wider, his hands coming up to wrap around Pierre’s shoulders. ‘Can I tell you a secret?’ Pierre nodded, gazing at Charles in curiosity.</p><p>‘I was playing it for you, only for you, always for you.’</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>alright, that was it, please leave a kudos or a comment if you liked it, they make my day. and if you ever find yourself on tumblr, come and say hi, i'm iwastemytimereading1</p></blockquote></div></div>
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